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About Michal-Josef Guzikov

While in grad school twenty years ago, I bumped
across an historical figure. I was doing research
on my instrument, and happened to find a man named
Michal-Josef Guzikow (1806-1837).

[This is the same Guzikov about whom Henry Sapoznik writes in his book about klezmer, in Henry's case, based primarily on the work of Josh Horowitz - see also Horowitz, Joshua "Gusikov in Wien," Jüdische Traditionelle in Oesterreich, Vienna Oesterreichische Volksliedwerk Vienna, 2001.]

Jacobowitz continues: "I'm currently involved in writing a book about
his most unusual life, and soon there will be
an archive set up on the internet (www.rainlore.demon.co.uk/Guzikow/GuzikowArchs.html), Im Yirats Hashem.
But I wanted to find out if anyone here has any
interest in this subject. I've met Guzikow's
descendants, gone to the gravesite, and collected the
most extensive archive known on this Chassidic
Jew, this klezmer.
I would love to know if there are any questions."

Born in what was white Russia (Belarus) or variously
Poland, Josef was a klezmer. A real, payes-wearing,
Shabbos-keeping klezmer musician, who played weddings
and Jewish holidays on his "wife", the flute, as his
father did. He was even famous, playing for the
Russian Czar Nicholas in Moscow with his family.

But then, tragedy. At the height of his powers,
aged 25, he developed tuberculosis, had to give
up his beloved flute, and became despondent. It
was more than just losing the ability to make
beautiful music - it meant loss of income for him
and his three children, no more need to travel,
no self-expression, no more playing for royalty
and all that implied.

Josef had an idea. Though he couldn't breathe easily
anymore, he took his substantial musical abilities -
fantastic improvisation, probably perfect pitch and
tremendous creativity - to an instrument which
at that time wasn't known - the xylophone.

Josef had heard another chassidic Jew, Sankson
Jakubowski, playing
the poor instrument - at that time known as
the Wood-and-Straw instrument because it was merely
two and one-half octaves of wooden slats laying on
rolls of straw, very primitive - and decided to study
with him. Jakubowski was five years older, knew not
only how to read music, but also composed. Jozef
learned with an uncanny passion, and within three
years mastered the instrument.

In 1834, only 28 years old, he played it solo
at a concert in Kiev, and in Odessa. His audiences
were absolutely astounded at the virtuosity he
commanded. Fast, perfect, musical - and he played
not only traditional Jewish music, but Polish
music, Russian songs, classical pieces for violin.
Many predicted a great success for him in Western
Europe. But could the Yiddish-speaking Josef know
what to do, how to achieve success in European
concert halls? After all, Europe's finest pianists,
violinists, singers would all be competing with him
with names like Paganini, Liszt, Hummel, Malibran,
Schumann, Mendelssohn.

How could this poor Jew from Poland, with his long
black coat and beard, have a chance?

He decided to risk it. Leaving his wife and children
home (Shklov, White Russia), he went on tour with
three other family members, who accompanied him
playing violin and cello.

After his concerts in Russia had been so successful,
he wagered to travel West, thinking that if he failed,
he could return to White Russia easily, though his
goal was London - everybody had told him what
great audiences, beautiful concert halls and sacks
of money were awaiting him there.

First, Poland. He played on the street in Warsaw, then
concerts in Lvov, Crakow, and in 1835 came to Prague.
He could arrange a few concerts, but mostly as a
variety performer, sharing the stage with two
children who played violin duets and other musical
oddities.

The German papers politely supported him, but
Josef knew much more awaited him, and in the
summer of 1836 he arrived in Vienna, the City of
Music, where Mozart had composed, where Beethoven
and Schubert were buried, the city of Strauss waltzes
- and of imperial anti-Semitism.

Josef immediately arranged a concert - but almost
no one attended - he hadn't known that the musical
cognoscenti of Vienna all left the city for their
summer homes. He was dejected.

It was at this low point that Vienna's most
influential music critic, Moritz Saphir, heard
Josef privately. Convinced of Josef's genius
immediately, Saphir, a brilliant writer and
lapsed Jew, supported Josef in his articles.
"See this man", wrote Saphir, who compared
Josef's manner and mien to those of a prophet.
The Vienna public obliged, and Josef's twelve
concerts at the Josefstadt Theater were sold out.
Word travelled about this Eastern Jew - code word
for illiterate, poor, dirty - who ascended the
stage and made light work of Paganini's most
difficult violin music - on pieces of wood!
He eventually was invited to play for Prince
Metternich, the Austrian diplomat who had
designed the peace treaty and the balance
of European powers at the end of the Napoleonic
Wars. Metternich invited him to play - but
on the holy Sabbath! Josef considered the
offer but refused, sending a note back to
His Excellency that unfortunately, Josef
was already engaged on that day - with an
even greater King! Metternich understood,
and offered Josef to play for him on Sunday
instead. Josef accepted.

Half of Europe was in a furor over him, and
fortunately for Josef, every city he played in
knew of him, selling out his concerts often
in advance. He continued to Berlin, Dresden,
Munich, Frankfurt, Hamburg. In Leipzig, Felix
Mendelssohn, the most famous living composer of
the time, wrote extraordinary things about
Josef's ability, and came to visit him privately
after the concert, and returned again to hear him
in Frankfurt.

The same result everywhere - original disbelief
turned into astonishment, respect and love.
After the Frankfurt concert, another Jew, Ferdinand
Hiller, who had converted to Christianity, wrote
a letter of introduction for Josef - to the foremost
opera composer of the time, Meyerbeer, who resided
in Paris.

Jakubowski, Josef's teacher, had done a concert
tour earlier throughout Germany and France, and
many people confused the two. Some thought that
Jakubowski was imitating Josef Guzikow, but it
was the other way round - Josef was the better
musician, though he had started very late.
So a competition developed between the two men,
each taking claim for having invented the
instrument, which in fact they both had merely
made innovations - a claim that was lost on
the rush to hear these "new" instruments.

Jakubowski had played in Paris about one year
earlier, and Meyerbeer had to be coaxed into
hearing Josef, as he had heard Jakubowski previously.
Meyerbeer, after hearing Guzikow, decided to
help him, and helped him rent the Paris Opera house
in December, 1836. Liszt heard Josef there,
and wrote a letter, dripping with envy, to
George Sand, Chopin's partner.

Josef stayed in Paris for several months, where
he was a guest of many ex-patriot Poles who had
escaped the insurrection and suppression of
1830-31, and every he was toasted as a true
artist, a genious, representing Jews and Poles
and culture despite his being anchored to
a religion many thought had been frozen in the Middle
Ages.

Josef then continued toward England, and since
his tuberculosis was giving him trouble, he
stopped at the spas in Spaa, Belgium to recover
some of the energy he had lost. While there,
he was interviewed by Fetis, the most important
Belgian critic, who provided us with many
important biographical details. While in Brussels,
Josef played for the Leopold, King of Belgium, who
granted him a diamond ring at the end of his
performance.

Josef and his family members decided
to discontinue their journey, since his health
would only be made worse by England's climate,
and they all decided to return back to White Russia
in summer of 1837.

Feeling stronger, a concert was arranged in Aachen
(Aix-la-Chappelle), and in the middle of playing,
Josef collapsed on stage, his instrument in his
hands. He died shortly thereafter, and was buried
in the Jewish cemetery in Aachen on October 23, 1837.

Since his relatives had already traveled home, no
money was left for his tombstone, and this poor
musician, a Jew who had come
from the shtetls of Poland, who come to
play for the crowned heads of Western Europe,
was buried in an unmarked grave at the age of 31.

Jakubowski lived much longer, and was buried
in the Jewish cemetery of Strassbourg in 1873.
He had a large and beautiful gravestone. On it was
engraved "Creator of the xylophone".